


This Gentle Sin

by saltandbyrne



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Anal Fisting, Anal Gaping, Bottom Sam, Coming Untouched, Community: spn-masquerade, First Time, M/M, Top Dean, Top Dean Winchester/Bottom Sam Winchester
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-09-27
Updated: 2015-09-27
Packaged: 2018-04-23 15:59:12
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,376
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4882972
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/saltandbyrne/pseuds/saltandbyrne
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>“No, just,” Sam groans, rolling over to face Dean, hair sticking sweaty to his face.</p><p>“Just use your fingers?”</p>
            </blockquote>





	This Gentle Sin

**Author's Note:**

> Written for round 3 of spn-masquerade for the prompt: Exactly what it says on the tin. Dean fucks Sam with his entire fist until he comes. Any way Dean wants to get himself off afterwards (or during) is fine, but the fisting should be the main event, not just foreplay.

“Ah, shit.”

 

Dean’s fingernails dig into the heel of his hand a second too late.  He falls over Sam, sweaty chest pressing to his back.  There’s no version of coming inside Sam’s ass that doesn’t feel amazing so Dean rides it out, groaning against his neck and grinding his hips into the tight circles Sam likes so much.

 

“Damn, Sammy.” 

 

Dean stays inside him as long as he possibly can, cursing when he feels himself start to soften.

 

At least Sam has the tact not to sigh too loud until after Dean’s pulled out.

 

This is what happens when they go too long without it, Sam with his tight fucking ass and that half-garbled scream he makes when Dean hits the right spot.  That had been a hell of a two and a half minutes but Dean’s not the type to get his first.

 

“Christ, I’m sorry, Sammy,” Dean mumbles, shuffling over to spoon up against Sam’s back.

 

“Dean, it’s fine.”

 

Sam’s nice bitchy voice is so much worse than the snarky one.

 

“Just give me, like, fifteen minutes, ok?” Dean mumbles into Sam’s hair.

 

That’s a goddamn lie and they both know it.

 

Dean used to spring boners like white on rice. He’d tapped out at six in one day on his twenty-fifth birthday, and that was just because his balls ached so much he’d had a fucking migraine. 

 

Now he’s lucky to fuck Sam two times in one day, and that’s after a good meal and a serious nap between them. He always tries to make it last but that last hunt had kept them busy and it’s hard to stave himself off when he finally gets to sink himself into Sam’s sweet ass.

 

Dean glares down at his soft cock, betrayed.

 

“Let me suck you off,” Dean offers, running his hand along Sam’s hip and urging him onto his back. 

 

“No, just,” Sam groans, rolling over to face Dean, hair sticking sweaty to his face.

 

“Just use your fingers?”

 

Sam’s forehead wrinkles as he abuses the puppy dog eyes, knowing Dean will do whatever he says.  Dean kisses him, nodding yes.

 

Sam shifts onto his belly, hiking his hips up and God, just seeing Sam’s ass up in the air always makes him crazy.

 

“Shit, yeah, Sammy.”

 

Dean drizzles a good glob of lube over his fingers, because there’s no such things as too much lube, not with Sam.

 

Sam’s still open from Dean’s cock and two fingers slip into him like nothing, sliding wet against the flutter of his rim. Sam’s always burning hot inside. Dean sighs, rubbing softly against slick skin and muscle.

 

“Dean, c’mon.”

 

Sam’s hand snakes between his legs as he bears his weight across his broad chest.  His cock hangs heavy between his spread thighs.

 

Dean hums, working his ring finger alongside the other two.  He sinks them to the third knuckle, working them deep inside while his pinky finger flares out against Sam’s ass.

 

“Feel good?”

 

Sam doesn’t answer, he just wraps a hand around himself and bucks back, working his hips up to a lazy fuck against Dean’s fingers.

 

“Want more,” Sam moans, circling against Dean’s hand and pushing himself open.  A thin trail of Dean’s come oozes out and fuck that makes Dean’s mouth water.

 

“God, Sammy.”

 

Four fingers deep gets Sam writhing, fucking back to Dean’s wet knuckles and forward into his own clenched hand. This is Dean’s favorite thing, the way Sam can splay all that strength out in front of him and just take it like he was made for it. 

 

Dean pulls out just to see the gape, smiling. Sam’s just as pretty here as he is everywhere, pink and sweet where only Dean gets to see him.

 

“Dean, fuck,” Sam grunts, arching back.

 

“You wanna take more, Sammy?”

 

They’ve talked about it but fucking hell, Sam.

 

“I want, fuck,” Sam looks back at him, his face halfway to ruined already.

 

“I want all of it.”

 

“Jesus, Sam.”  Dean wipes the sweat off his forehead with the back of his hand and whistles, low.

 

Sam’s got sweat dappling his thighs, muscles cording in his legs as he rocks back.  His free hand reaches back, fingers tugging at one side of his ass to pull himself open.

 

Dean needs more lube.

 

“Do it, Dean.”

 

Sam’s always gonna be his little brother, and that thread of petulance in Sam’s voice gets him hotter than any nasty shit they could ever get up to.

 

“I got you, Sammy.”

 

Dean slicks his whole goddamn hand up and squirts an extra shot of lube straight into Sam just to be safe. 

 

Dean starts slow, fucking his fingers in and out of Sam’s hole until he can hear it, that wet squelch sound that would’ve made them giggle when they were kids.  Now it just makes Sam’s dick leak onto the bed.

 

Lube runs down Sam’s balls, puddling next to the generous stream of precome staining the motel sheets.  There are nights when Dean likes to run his mouth while they’re fucking, half big brother teasing and half to watch Sam come apart for him. Dean bites his lip now, all his attention zeroed in on the stretch of Sam’s hole, every tiny sound he makes, any sign Sam can give him.

 

He moans low and dirty when Dean fucks his hand in to the base, his thumb still safe against Sam’s ass but his knuckles stretching fat against Sam’s hole.  There’s this noise Sam makes when he pushes that just fucks Dean up no matter how many times he hears it.

 

Dean twists his wrist, keeping his pressure steady as he works side to side and savors that blood-heat throb of Sam against him. Sam unfurls, canting into it and grating out a string of broken sounds.  He’s not jerking himself off any more, just baring his teeth to the mattress and bracing himself against the hot, wet press of Dean’s four fingers until he’s as open as he can get.

 

“You ready?”

 

Dean knows the answer but he wants to hear it anyway.

 

“Dean, _please_.”

 

Dean’s chest heaves as he carefully tucks his thumb against his palm, picturing every fisting porn he’s ever watched and throwing more lube on his hand for good measure. 

 

He sinks in, slow inch by slow inch, twisting and pushing until Sam’s just at the widest point.  He’s got five fingers inside his brother’s ass and Dean’s never heard Sam make that noise, ever.

 

“Oh, _goddeanfuckfuckfuck_ ,” Sam bites out through his teeth, hand flying to his cock and stroking jagged as Dean doesn’t let up.

 

He can feel Sam straining, blister hot body opening up for him and God, they’re really doing this, Sam’s hole shiny taut and swallowing around Dean’s knuckles until he’s inside.

 

Dean’s panting by the time he slips in to his wrist, nevermind the broken sighs Sam’s  letting out as he strips his cock and shakes around Dean’s hand. Dean moves a little, testing and doing it again when Sam barks his name and clenches both his hands into the sheets.

 

“Oh God, I’m gonna, Dean,” Sam husks, the muscles in his back jumping as he rocks onto Dean’s hand.  He shudders from the inside out, hot pressure clenching tight around Dean’s hand as Sam’s cock starts to spurt without a hand on it.

 

“Fuck, Sammy,” Dean whispers, his eyes wide. It’s so nasty and wrong and fucking beautiful, wrist-deep in Sam’s ass as he spills onto the bed and moans Dean’s name.  Dean will gladly sleep in the wet spot, Christ, he’ll sleep on the floor just to see the fist-fucked gape of Sam’s ass when he pulls out, pulling at the empty air like it needs Dean back inside him.

 

They are definitely doing this again.

 

They collapse into a pile, sticking together in odd places as Dean wipes his hand on the sheet and reminds himself to leave an extra tip for housekeeping.

 

“Oh my God,” Sam slurs, snuggling back against Dean. Dean doesn’t need to see his face to know that he’s smiling doofy and wide.

 

“Hey Sam,” Dean whispers, kissing along the sweat damp shell of Sam’s ear.

 

“Glad I could give you a hand.”

 

Sam snorts and snuggles in closer.


End file.
